


How High the Moon

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: run_the_con, F/M, Fic, First Time, M/M, Multi, Relationship Advice, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry?" Elizabeth looked confused.</p>
<p>June leaned forward and said gently, "Wouldn't you rather be upstairs with them now?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	How High the Moon

June was reading in the parlor when Elizabeth Burke appeared in the doorway, her phone in her hand. "Hello, June," she said, "I'd arranged to meet Peter for a ride home, but I'm early, and he's not quite ready to leave. Do you mind if I wait?"

"Of course." June set her book aside without a second glance and stood to welcome her guest. "Come in. I'll have Sofia bring coffee—or do you prefer tea?" 

Elizabeth had already started to unwind her scarf, and her reply was muffled. "I don't want to trouble you."

"Nonsense," said June. 

"Tea, thank you."

June rang the bell and issued instructions while Elizabeth finished divesting herself of her coat and gloves. They sat down, and June waited until Sofia left the room. She didn't want to put Elizabeth on the spot or make her uncomfortable, but she was curious about recent developments, and Mozzie had thus far refused to discuss the matter. Still, it was none of her business, and she owed it to Neal to tread lightly. "Peter has been spending rather more time here, of late," she said vaguely.

Elizabeth looked up from her phone, and June saw comprehension register. Elizabeth's cheeks turned pink, but her chin lifted proudly. "Does that shock you?"

"Not in the least," said June calmly. "You forget, I lived through the sixties. There is one aspect of your arrangement that surprises me, though."

Elizabeth's lips twitched. "Only one?"

June met her eye and grinned, relieved to see she hadn't given offence. "You know, in many ways you remind me of Neal, and Neal's prevailing characteristic is that he goes after what he wants."

"You think I don't want this?" Elizabeth drew herself up. "I'm not an altruist, June. I love my husband and this, with Neal, is part of who he is. Believe me when I say I benefit from Peter's happiness. When he's with me, he's _with_ me."

"My dear, you mistake my meaning," said June. "Of course I believe you want this arrangement. I'm only suggesting—and please stop me if I'm intruding—" She waited a moment, but although the color in Elizabeth's cheeks deepened, she didn't interrupt. "I get the feeling that this isn't _all_ you want."

"I'm sorry?" Elizabeth looked confused.

June leaned forward and said gently, "Wouldn't you rather be upstairs with them now?"

" _Oh._ " Elizabeth's mouth fell open. "Oh, no. That isn't—I don't think—" She gripped her scarf in both hands and eyed June with the air of someone who hadn't had the opportunity to discuss her state of affairs with an outsider before. Apparently June passed muster. "Neal makes Peter very happy, and I'm not jealous. I thought I might feel I'd lost something, but Peter's still there when I need him, as much as he's always been. And I like Neal. I understand what Peter sees in him. But I'm not Peter—" She trailed off, caught up in her own thoughts, concern creasing her forehead.

"It's all right," said June, wondering if it had been a mistake to raise the matter.

"No, it's—" Elizabeth bit her lip, frowning. "If I saw them together—like that—I don't know how I'd—how I'd feel. I might want to hurt Neal or—or stake my claim."

"Or you might find room in your heart for both of them." June kept her expression neutral. This really was none of her business, and she wasn't at all sure Neal would thank her for interfering. The dear boy considered himself supremely capable of managing his own concerns. June's qualms were interrupted.

"I couldn't compete," Elizabeth said softly, as if she were talking to herself. "Not with Peter. I wouldn't want to."

"Oh my dear." June's heart went out to her. "It's hardly a competition. We're talking about two men who patently adore you."

Elizabeth grinned, momentarily distracted from her uncertainty. "This really doesn't shock you, does it?"

"Not at all," said June. "I'm an incurable romantic."

Elizabeth's smile faded. "But that's the thing. It's not enough that Neal's attractive. If it were, there are dozens of people I could—It would have to be because he's Neal, because I—"

"Because you love him," said June. She met Elizabeth's startled gaze. "Don't you? He's a very special young man."

"I—" Elizabeth seemed lost for words.

"Enough to share your husband with him," said June. "And he loves you."

"You don't know that."

"I'm not blind."

"They're so happy," said Elizabeth, as if she were wrestling with a problem. "We're all happy the way things are. It works for us."

"Of course you are," said June. She might have added more, hard-won wisdom about not underestimating the human capacity for joy, and how one had to seize opportunities when they presented themselves because everything could be lost in a flash, but Sofia chose that moment to bring in the tea tray, and by the time she'd left, June was overcome with contrition. Neal and the Burkes had come to an agreement, and she had no right to question it. "I'm sorry, my dear. You should tell me to keep my opinions to myself."

"No, I—" Elizabeth was on her feet. "I never thought of myself as a coward before, and—and I'm not about to start now. Would you excuse me?"

"Good luck," said June, but Elizabeth was already gone.

 

*

 

El climbed the staircase, her heart pounding. Until a few minutes ago, she hadn't considered the possibility of being with Peter and Neal together. Their romance was separate, mysterious and legally gray. She'd accepted its inevitability, welcomed it, even, but it hadn't changed her life. The only differences was in Peter's energized approach to the world—no longer distracted by impossible longing—and in Neal's casual flirting, which perhaps wasn't so casual after all. El had carried on, business as usual, and she'd been so busy at work lately, she'd barely had time to dwell on the new secret she carried under her ribs: that her marriage was no longer normal. That a convicted con artist, earnest and sincere, loved her husband and had found his way into her intimate family.

But the three of them all together—that could turn her whole world around. There'd be no possibility of denial then, nothing untouched, nothing safe. The thought was thrilling and terrifying, and a more sensible person would turn on her heels and leave, take time to think it through. Discuss it with someone more respectable than June Ellington apparently was. Discuss it, at the very least, with Peter.

Elizabeth didn't want to be sensible. She paused in the face of Neal's closed door and pictured what she might find on the other side, an erotic clinch, sex, Neal and Peter caught up in each other with no attention to spare for anyone else. Her Peter.

Her Neal. 

What if they didn't want her here? There was only one way to be sure, and she needed to know _now_. From inside the room, she heard a thump, a faint groan. She swallowed hard and pushed the door open, letting herself inside.

"Hon. Didn't you get my text?" Peter sounded surprised and apologetic. It took her a second to spot him, she was so used to politely blanking the bed from her awareness on the few occasions she'd visited Neal, but she turned to the sound of Peter's voice and saw him perched on the edge of the bed, shirt hanging open but otherwise mostly dressed, a sock in one hand.

Neal, in contrast, was lying naked, the top sheet barely reaching his hip, his lean body curved behind Peter. His head was propped on his hand and he'd clearly been laughing up at Peter—no doubt the groan had been his response to one of Peter's terrible puns—but now his amusement smoothed into a friendly façade, which El recognized as a defense. He sat up and pulled the sheet higher. "Sorry, Elizabeth. We didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"I know. I was early." El shut the door and moved closer. It was blindingly obvious that Peter and Neal had indeed just had sex. Of course they had. And as expected, prior abstract knowledge was very different from seeing their physical intimacy for herself. They weren't even touching, but there was no doubt they were attuned. A hot surge of jealousy rose in her chest. She focused on her reason for being here, her feelings for both of them, and her insecurity was quickly overtaken by a swell of love and desire. She could be part of what they had, perhaps, if she could find the words to ask. "I was talking to June, and she said—"

"What? What did she say?" Peter stood up, his attention fixed on her, and El glanced at Neal, and wondered if she were stealing something that was rightfully his: this place, this time, alone with Peter. 

That was what she had to find out. She summoned all her courage, her poise, and tried to say it calmly. "June asked why I wasn't up here with the two of you. Whether I might want to be." Despite her best efforts, her voice shook, and she had to take a breath before she continued. "I know we haven't talked about it, and maybe it's not what you want, but—"

"Oh, it is," said Neal. He glanced at Peter and back to El. "I mean, obviously it's your call, but speaking for myself—"

Peter's gaze was fixed on El, his eyes bright and searching, and El couldn't tell what he was thinking so she dropped her scarf and gloves on the couch and went to him, put her arms around him, relieved when he hugged her back because it meant that even if she was wrong to be here without talking it out first, he'd make it right. "Is that really what you want?" he murmured. "The three of us together?"

She looked up, and there was so much love on his face, so much hope, she felt it like champagne sparkling in her veins. "I love you," she said. It was all the answer she could give. "Hon?"

"If we can, all of us, work it out," he said, cupping her cheek. "If Neal wants it too—"

"I just said I did," said Neal. "Elizabeth, if I were better prepared for company, I would come over there and kiss you right now to prove it."

El sent Peter a quick grin. "He's shy?"

"It wears off remarkably quickly, believe me," said Peter dryly.

"I just like a romantic moment to be romantic," said Neal, rolling his eyes at both of them. He wrenched the sheet free of the bed and got to his feet, winding the white cotton around his waist like an over-sized towel. El caught a glimpse of his anklet below the folds, and the sight of it tugged at her heart, but then he was coming for her, and all she could see was Neal, handsome and oddly vulnerable, for all his jokes and bravado. 

Peter's lover, and now maybe, it seemed, hers too. 

El's breath left her in a rush, and her cheeks heated. The steadiest thing in the world was Peter's hand on her back, anchoring her. Neal moved closer, and El reached up to cup his jaw and drew him into a kiss. She heard Peter inhale sharply, and that was the last thing that breached her consciousness, because the kiss which she'd meant to be curious and tender—her lips on Neal's for the very first time—flared instantly into passion, making El's body tighten with awareness as she pressed forward into Neal's embrace. She sensed his restraint, and she knew the moment it gave way. Her cream wool suit jacket fell to the floor, and he molded her to him, took her mouth as if he couldn't help himself. It was nothing like kissing Peter after eleven years of marriage: even at their most passionate, they didn't have this urgency. 

That thought made her break the kiss, gasping, and look around for Peter, to make sure he was still there, still all right with seeing her in Neal's arms. He was at their side in an instant, brushing back her hair, kissing first her swollen lips and then Neal's, with equal care.

That caused another flash of possessiveness, especially irrational after what she and Neal had been doing, but it was lesser this time and she could tell the reaction would fade. Soon there would be only acceptance, nothing but love and desire. 

Peter seemed to have reached that place already. He moved back and murmured, "Please—continue," his voice rough with longing. 

El smiled at Neal. "I think he wants to watch us," she said. 

"Well, we are gorgeous," said Neal with a wink, and El laughed and kissed him again, playful this time, light and sexy, disguising the depth of her feeling with a theatrical display of love-making. Neal's sheet was slipping, and everywhere she put her hands was warm smooth skin. It didn't take long before she was hollowed out by the deep dark ache of desire.

The zipper at the back of her dress started to inch down, and it took El a moment to realize that Neal's hands were around her waist and cupping her breast, that the zipper must be Peter's doing, and yes, those were Peter's lips along the crest of her shoulder, it was Peter's voice in her ear asking if she was okay. _Two men who adore you,_ June had said. How right she was! El had had no idea how heady that would be.

It was almost overwhelming, and for a moment, El wavered. Should she call a halt? Did they need to talk before they took it further? Was she ready to step into the unknown? Her feelings for the two men were so different, was this fair to Neal? At least there was no doubt she had Peter's blessing: his big, hot hands had slipped inside her dress and come to settle on her waist, thumbs stroking softly across her back.

"Elizabeth," said Neal. "El. You okay?" His eyes were dark with arousal, but even through the heat of their bodies, he was attentive to her mood, noticing her hesitation. That focus, the specificity of the warmth between them, filled her with bubbling excitement. 

"I like it when you call me El." She smiled up at him, her doubts resolved, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him hard up against her. This was an adventure for all three of them. Between them, they'd figure it out. Neal's erection nudged her hip through the bunched up sheets, and she sent him a teasing look. "I thought my husband would have worn you out by now."

"I thought he had," said Neal frankly. "But you—you're amazing." His mouth met hers again, lush and generous, and El shivered.

"I'm not trying to come between you," she blurted. "You know that."

"I know," said Neal, and she knew he understood, perhaps better than anyone. He'd practically been in her position, only a few months ago—asking for more than friendship, unsure what the consequences would be. 

They'd been good consequences. They'd led them here. El kissed his neck. "Make love with me?"

"Oh, El." It was almost a sigh, lost in the rustle of the sheet falling to the floor. "You have no idea."

El stepped out of her dress, turned to kiss Peter so he knew he wasn't forgotten, and lay down in Neal's arms. Peter sat beside them, still half-clothed, watching with such blatant pleasure that El's heart expanded painfully. 

The sex was tender and simple. Neal took his time, as if savoring every moment, and El arched up to meet him, unable to wipe the sappy smile from her face. She felt adored and cherished beyond anything she'd ever known, with Peter close by and Neal mapping her body with his hands as if he planned to sculpt her. Her orgasm was a hot clench of pleasure that went on and on, wringing her through—not the violent heights of passion she sometimes reached, but real and true, ebbing slowly, leaving her sated and glowing. Even then, Neal kept on, as if he couldn't get enough, as if he'd been wanting her all this time as much as he wanted Peter. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her as they fucked, and it was so good, she felt another wave start to build.

Without looking, she reached for Peter's hand and threaded their fingers together. Peter squeezed back and kissed the sensitive skin of her inner wrist, his lips ardent, licking up to her elbow. El swore and came again, harder and more intense. This time, she took Neal with her. He drove in deep and stiffened, his hand tight on her ass, his lips working silently. 

"I love you," said El, needing him to know the truth of it, and when he'd caught his breath, he said it back. She tugged Peter down beside them and lay with both her men, reveling.

 

*

 

El cast a lazy glance across at Peter. He was still in his shirt and pants, terribly overdressed compared to Neal and herself. He was even wearing one sock. "How're you doing, hon?"

"I'm good." He sounded as content as she felt, and he stretched to kiss her nose. "I'm just wondering what happens next."

Neal stirred on El's other side. "Champagne," he said. "I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?" He sprang out of bed without waiting for an answer, butt naked, his previous self-consciousness utterly forgotten. 

"Champagne is not a plan," said Peter. 

El had been watched Neal appreciatively, but that made her laugh. She and Peter exchanged amused glances. "I think maybe we should play it by ear," she said, to the pop of a champagne cork from across the room. "There's plenty of room for us all to get what we want."

Peter looked thoughtful. "You think so?"

Neal's black hat spun through the air like a slow Frisbee and landed lightly on El's knee. She picked it up and angled it on her head, feeling sophisticated and smug. "We've been doing all right so far."

"You make a very attractive point, Mrs. Burke." Peter snuggled closer, his concerned apparently fading, and then Neal came back to bed with an open bottle of Dom Perignon and three glasses. 

El took the first glass he poured and elbowed Peter gently. "Here, hon. You look thirsty."

Neal snickered and gave her the second glassful, then raised the third in a toast. "To improvisation."

Peter got up on one elbow and held up his glass. "To the two of you. And to whatever brilliant self-sacrifice I must've made in my last life, to end up here."

El chimed her glass lightly against the others. "To June," she said. Neal and Peter looked at her, eyebrows raised, and she grinned. "After all, this was her idea."

 

END


End file.
